


Dress Up

by kylobolton



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blood, Castration, Crossdressing, Cutting, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, Gender Dysphoria, Humiliation, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mpreg, Ramsay is his own warning, Rape, Verbal Humiliation, a million other things, don't read if it will trigger you, it's thramsay so it's gross, not technically but kind of mentioned, well at least it's talked about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylobolton/pseuds/kylobolton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon Greyjoy always did so well with the ladies, so what better humiliation than to make him become one? At least, that's how Ramsay sees it--although his games might reveal a deeper longing. Lots of misgendering here, obviously, so if that will be upsetting to you then maybe skip it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress Up

Goosebumps spread across Reek’s bony legs and he shook so violently that his teeth chattered—the teeth he had left anyway. Ramsay had smashed many of them to bits and taken pleasure in ripping others from his gums with cold metal pliers. He usually lapped the blood from his pet’s ruined mouth in a disgusting mockery of intimacy. Reek ran his tongue over the rough bits nervously. If he’d had a cock, it would have shrunk in the chill air, but now all he felt was a phantom twitch between his legs. The reminder of this absence made him whimper briefly.

The thud of the heavy door startled him as Ramsay entered, clad in a pink doublet and black pants. He looked warm.

“Are you cold, pet?” he asked, voice smooth as he approached. “It appears the useless chambermaids have neglected to light a fire. I’ll have them whipped.”

Reek stared at the ground. Of course the room had been kept chilly intentionally. None of Reek’s suffering occurred on accident—his master was constantly scheming and devising new ways to torment him. Besides, if Ramsay was angry he’d likely take it out on Reek and enjoy it far more than punishing some servant girl. Reek was his special project, his favorite toy.

Ramsay reached out and brushed Reek’s cheek, evoking an involuntary flinch.

“Are you cold?” he cooed, fat lips curling up into a smile. “Would you like something to put on?”

Reek had no choice but to nod, though he knew Ramsay’s kind questions always led to some sort of trap.

“Yes mi’lord.”

“Good,” Ramsay replied, smile growing wider. “I have something in this trunk. Open it.”

Reek’s green eyes widened as he followed the motion of Ramsay’s arm to the storage container against the wall. He was unsure whether he wanted to reach into the large, wooden chest, but he saw no other choice. His missing fingers caused him to fumble with the opening, but finally the chest creaked loudly and he reached inside to remove a bundle of faded blue fabric.

“Go on,” Ramsay said expectantly. “Put it on.”

Reek unfolded the garment and felt his stomach drop. It was a worn dress, perhaps once suitable for a lady-in-waiting but now ripped, tattered, and covered in dust.  
“Mi’lord,” Reek began tentatively, “I’m not fit for such…finery. Let me have my rags. I’ll wear them til they’re as filthy as you like them—I’ll be good.”

“It’s _rude_ to refuse a gift, Reek, especially one as fancy as this. Put it on…be a good girl.”

There it was. The one thing Ramsay knew would always hurt him no matter how many times it was said. His master had taken his manhood and forced him to live in the kennels with all his other “girls.” Reek would rather Ramsay fuck him and be done with it, but sometimes Ramsay insisted on playing this game when their typical roles weren’t enough to satiate his sadism.

“Yes mi’lord, I’m sorry mi’lord,” Reek mumbled, clumsily stepping into the gown.

“Good,” Ramsay said, grabbing Reek by the shoulders and twisting him around.

“You’ll need help with this lacing, _wife_.”

Reek let out a choking sob but tried to disguise it as a cough.

“Thank you mi’lord, you’re so gallant.”

Ramsay hummed contentedly, fingers tracing lightly over Reek’s back.

“But of course, you know you’re not _really_ a lady. Just a common whore—my ugly pet in disguise. You can pretend to be a kraken prince, let’s see you pretend to be a kraken princess, eh?”

“Anything you want mi’lord—Oof!” Reek grunted as Ramsay finished tightening the laces with a harsh tug and turned his pet around once more.

“Better,” Ramsay observed, stroking his chin. “But still looking like a gutter wench. Let’s fix that, eh? Close your eyes.”

Reek trembled, wincing. Taking his eyes off of Ramsay for even a moment could mean a surprise jolt of pain. Something touched his lips, and he started.

“Shh, stay still,” Ramsay murmured. “If you mess it up I’ll have to start over, and it will be less pleasant the next time.”

Reek stood as steadily as possible as Ramsay ran a brush over his lips and eye lids. Then, with a rustling, something itchy was placed on his head.

“Perfect!” his Lord exclaimed, clapping his hands together with glee. “Come see.”

Leading Reek to the mirror, Ramsay grinned wide as his pet caught sight of his reflection. A blonde wig and garish cosmetics adorned his visage, clashing with the patches of scruffy hair on his chin and his rotting teeth. Reek yelped before catching himself.

“It’s—it’s lovely mi’lord,” he stammered. “You are too good to me.”

“I know,” Ramsay replied with a sneer. “A common bitch like you doesn’t deserve any of this, but you get to be spoiled by a Lord. Down.”

Reek followed the command and pointed finger like a trained pup as Ramsay unlaced his britches, revealing his stiffening cock.

Wordlessly, Reek crawled forward and took it in his mouth, lapping at the shaft with his tongue, holding back tears as Ramsay grew between his cracked lips.

“If I feel any teeth I’ll knock the rest out,” his master warned. Reek murmured to affirm he’d gotten the message. Ramsay reached down and ran his fingers through the wig, thrusting deeper into Reek’s throat.

Reek’s gag reflex disappeared a bit more every day, but he still wasn’t entirely conditioned to take Ramsay’s whole length. He felt bile growing in the back of his throat as Ramsay’s dick plunged further. Drool dripped from his mouth, mucus leaked from his nostrils, and his eyes watered so that he could barely see. His lord let out a satisfied sigh, encouraging him to keep going. He could do this. He could please him. If he didn’t…

“You’re getting makeup all over me,” Ramsay spat, backhanding Reek as the smaller man yowled. It was true. Reek’s lip color was smeared all over his lord’s cock. “Besides,” Ramsay growled, a glimmer in his eye. “You can’t expect to give me any children that way. You’re so stupid.”  


Reek trembled and held back tears, knowing what was next.

“Of course mi’lord, I am…a stupid, ignorant girl. I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t,” Ramsay snarled, grasping Reek’s forearms tightly. “But I’m a Lord, and I need to make little lordlings. Do you think you can manage that much?”

“I’d be honored, mi’lord,” Reek insisted. “I can pretend to be Theona Greyjoy…kraken princess…I’ll be good.”

“You’d better be,” Ramsay responded, wrenching Reek’s arms and maneuvering him towards the bed. “This is a woman’s place.”

With a shove, he knocked Reek on his back.

“This dress is too good for you,” he said with a smirk, picking a knife off the bedside table. “Besides, I’ll have to have new clothes made. It’s not going to fit you when you’re pregnant with my child…swollen and bloated.” He reached out to stroke Reek’s stomach and Reek shuddered, as light as the touch was. He knew what came next would not be so gentle.

Ramsay caught a seam with the knife, ripping with great force, the blade dangerously close to Reek’s already scarred skin.

“Let’s see your pretty cunt,” Ramsay said with a laugh, frenzied and tearing cloth.

Reek couldn’t restrain the tears any longer, and he wept as his master traced over the scar tissue between his thighs with that cold knife. Visions of the trauma inflicted on that spot flooded his mind’s eye as Ramsay laughed with mirthful glee.

“Aww, why the tears?” he asked with mock sympathy. “Don’t you want to birth little Bolton babies? That’s all you’re really good for. What this is good for.”

Reek yelped as Ramsay pressed down, leaving a small cut on the already sensitive area.

“You’re going to bleed much more than that when my heir arrives, whore.” Ramsay said, setting the knife down to remove his own clothes. Reek noted how much larger and stronger his master was. Lord Ramsay was somewhat overweight, but it was clear that beneath any fleshiness lay plentiful muscle. His stocky figure dwarfed Reek’s frail, starved frame, and Ramsay liked it that way. One arm was meatier than Reek’s entire thigh, and one large hand could wrap around his scrawny throat.

Undressed, Ramsay smeared the blood across Reek’s groin and stomach before licking the rest off his fingers. He gripped Reek’s waist and then tossed him farther up the bed. Leaning over his pet, Ramsay smiled as Reek spread his legs reflexively, waiting.

“Good girl,” he said, briefly tracing a finger around his pet’s asshole. Reek quivered, then cried out as Ramsay entered him with a grunt.

He whined, his body unprepared for the intrusion. He hoped nothing would tear this time—previously the maester had to examine his bleeding ass to prevent infection—just further humiliation. The man kept questions to a minimum, afraid of Lord Ramsay’s ire, but Reek had seen the disgust in his eyes—the way he looked at Reek as if he weren’t even human. Maybe he wasn’t anymore—maybe he never had been.

“Focus,” Ramsay ordered, tilting Reek’s head so he was forced to make eye contact. “I don’t want you drifting off.” A harsh, painful thrust ensured Reek had to obey. Ramsay wouldn’t let him withdraw into himself and block out the pain this time. Sometimes Ramsay used him as a hole—a mindless fucktoy—but sometimes he needed to see him suffer. 

“Look at me, _wife_ ,” Ramsay commanded, accelerating his rhythm. His cock was thick—thicker than Reek’s had ever been—filling him in a way he’d never imagined he might be filled, back when he thought he was born to fuck and never be fucked. Reek still had a prostate—Ramsay couldn’t take that from him, but it only made it worse. The pressure of Ramsay’s member stroking his insides gave Reek a kind of pleasure he had no desire to feel. Ramsay had left just enough behind to frustrate him—residual bits of sensitive tissue between his legs that could be aroused but never satisfied—and this spot deep inside him. Unwillingly, Reek moaned. He didn’t want Ramsay to make him feel good—he didn’t want to give him that satisfaction—but in a world of constant pain, Reek couldn’t help but cling to any fragment of pleasure. Lord Ramsay was merciful—yes, Lord Ramsay was kind to give him this good feeling. It was all he had left.

Ramsay wrapped his hand around Reek’s neck, drawing a frightened croak from his throat. Reek’s legs were wrapped around his master now, clinging to the only person he had left.

“No one else will ever do this, you know,” Ramsay whispered in his ear, sliding in and out at an increasingly aggressive pace. “No one else will ever want to touch you.”

“I know,” Reek sobbed, clinging tighter. “I know.”

Strands of blonde hair fell into his eyes as Ramsay rocked harder, reminding him of his role in this little game.

Ramsay leaned down and kissed him, biting his lipstick covered mouth hard enough to draw blood—licking his filthy teeth.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed, and you’re going to carry my child, even if you don’t deserve it.”

“Yes mi’lord,” Reek wailed, tears and sweat and snot flowing. Ramsay rubbed his hand over Reek’s face, spreading the evidence of his weeping all over his face—mixing it into the makeup.

“Your cunt is so tight,” Ramsay growled. “Your tits though, leave something to be desired.”

Ramsay bit Reek’s left nipple hard, eliciting a cry of pain. He’d sliced the right one off a few months ago, and now he pinched the scar tissue.

“Yes, I expect they’ll get bigger after you give birth. Or maybe there’s something the maester could give you that might make them grow. Would you like that?”

“Whatever you want, mi’lord,” Reek stammered. His body hadn’t been his own for a long time, but if Ramsay did have some way to make it more…feminized, that might be too much for him to bear. Reek had no idea what his master was capable of. He loomed like a god in Reek’s mind—controlling more than the poor slave could possibly imagine.

“Theona,” Ramsay gasped, thrusting hard. “A pretty name for a lady. It could be Moat Cailin once more, but instead of armor I’ll send you back to your people in skirts and rouge. I bet all the Ironborn men would like that—passing you around like a saltwife. Your sister is more of a man than you.”

A vision of Asha passed through Reek’s mind momentarily, dark hair whipping in the salty wind, but then it was gone. He had no sister, he had no family. He was just Reek.

Ramsay grunted and pounded against Reek more insistently. He arched his back and grabbed Reek’s waist, digging his nails in until blood seeped onto the mattress.  
Reek’s eyes rolled back into his head as good and bad sensations seemed to meld together. He was beyond pain now—floating partly out of his body no matter how badly Ramsay tried to keep him there. The only thing tethering him to his physical form was the the pressure inside him growing. Ramsay was close, and in spite of it all, Reek was too. He knew what he had to say.

“I—I love you, mi’lord,” he moaned. “My lord husband…I love you”

With a groan, Ramsay came, clawing at Reek blindly in a fit of ecstasy. Reek gasped, clenching his legs around his master. He would never come the normal way again—he was no longer a man and he had no right to that. But this…this was a pleasure all its own. Reek shuddered and enjoyed a few seconds of gratification before guilt and fear set back in. How could he gain pleasure from this degradation? Did he want this—to be Ramsay’s woman? Was he capable of wanting anything?

Ramsay ran his hands down Reek’s torso, slick with blood and sweat. He pulled out, come and more blood dripping from Reek’s asshole, pooling on the fine silk sheets.

“A gift for the serving girls to find,” he chuckled, lying beside Reek and pushing him into a spooning position. Ramsay wrapped his thick arms around his pet and gently pushed a strand of blonde hair away from his ear. A large hand made its way to Reek’s empty stomach, caressing it once more.

“Little Boltons will be on the way in no time, hm?”

“If the gods are good, mi’lord,” Reek whispered.

Ramsay snorted.

“The wait may be longer than anticipated in that case.”

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, Reek’s heart pounding. His master was sometimes calm in the afterglow of such encounters, but that could change at any time.

“Reek?” Ramsay said, finally.

“Mi’lord?”

“Do you ever think…if you were actually a woman…”

“Do I ever think what, mi’lord?” Reek asked, hesitant.

“Nothing,” Ramsay scoffed, waving his hand. “You’re not. You’re my creature. That’s all.”

“Of course, mi’lord,” Reek said, tugging on a strand of wig. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

Ramsay buried his nose beneath the wig, into the greasy strands of Reek’s actual hair.

“Until when?”

“Until I’m rotting in the ground.”

Ramsay sighed, then hummed softly, and drifted into the hazy realm of half-sleep. His breathing was heavy, punctuated eventually by sporadic snoring.

Reek closed his eyes, exhausted, secure in Ramsay’s grip. He wasn’t a woman, and he wasn’t a man—just a feeble, bloody doll. And this—this was his place.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in the Thramsay fandom since 2014, but this is my first fic for the ship! Or, at least the first one that's been published. For a lot of personal reasons, it's a big step for me to actually post this. Some of you may know about my alter, A--let's just say it's influenced by him. ;) Enjoy!


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